


all i say and all i do

by CaineGreyson



Category: Black Mirror, Black Mirror: Bandersnatch
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Lust, M/M, maybe even a happy ending??? wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 08:33:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17240969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaineGreyson/pseuds/CaineGreyson
Summary: colin helps stefan finish the game.then he helps him out of the hole.





	all i say and all i do

Colin shifted under the covers. Stefan, sitting up in his computer chair, watched him with wide eyes. He’d been asleep for the last sixteen hours. He was probably going to wake up with a pounding headache and throw up on Stefan’s bedroom floor. He wasn’t entirely sure how to clean vomit out of the carpet, and he didn’t really want to learn.

The man in his bed made a noise and Stefan turned quickly back to his computer, feeling strangely guilty. He hadn’t done anything wrong. All he’d done was let Colin in and let him help him with Bandersnatch. It was Colin who’d decided to drink until he passed out. It was Colin who’d asked if he could sleep in Stefan’s bed, that half-lazy, half-lightning smile on his face; Colin who’d laughed like a demon when Stefan said, “But what about Kitty?”

“Kitty doesn’t mind,” Colin had told him, stubbing out a joint on Stefan’s desk. The burn mark was still there. He got the urge to touch it, but he resisted.

Behind him, Colin groaned. The bedclothes shifted, and Stefan braved a look around. A shock of blond hair stood out against the pillowcase. The blankets were pulled up to his pale cheeks. He looked comfortable. Stefan wished he’d given in and joined him, but at first he’d said no because he was nervous, and then he’d said it again because he didn’t want to go back on what he’d already said, and then it was too late—

“Stefan,” said Colin with his eyes still closed, “Could you fetch me a glass of water? And a Panadol, if you’ve got some.”

“Yeah—yeah, of course,” Stefan said, and ran off to get the painkillers. Colin was still resting when he got back, but he stuck out his hand for the painkillers, threw them into his mouth, and then took the water. When he was finished, he gave Stefan back the empty glass. He stood there uselessly, not sure where to look.

Colin cracked an eye open finally. “Did we finish it?” he asked. Stefan blinked. Colin jerked his chin at the computer. “Did we finish _Bandersnatch_? Tucker’s going to kill you if it’s not done.”

“Yeah,” said Stefan. “It’s finished, but…”

“You thought of another pathway.”

“It’s important.”

“Nope.” Colin popped the ‘p’, sat up, and stretched out. “Pull the curtains. Sitting in the dark isn’t going to get you out of the hole.”

“I’m not _in_ the hole anymore.”

“You almost killed your dad yesterday.” Colin was as blunt as ever. Even with his eyes red and his clothes rumpled, he still looked like he could stay about ten steps in front of Stefan in a battle of wits. “You’re in the hole, and right in it too. How long’ve we got?”

“Until Dad gets back? He’ll be home around noon, I’d say. He tries to get back from work trips early if he can.”

He was glad his dad had decided to go on the trip. His hand had twitched towards that ashtray so many times he’d lost count. He’d dialled the office number in a panic as soon as the front door closed behind the briefcase. Colin had picked up, thank god.

“What time is it now?”

“Nine,” said Stefan apprehensively.

“Come with me.” Colin swung his legs out of bed. He gathered everything they needed for the game—Stefan made a silent noise of protest—and strode out of the room. He made himself right at home. It was almost like he knew the place already. He opened a cupboard—“Frosties, yeah?”—poured the cereal, and handed it to Stefan, spoon and all.

“Eat in the car.” The keys jingled in his hand. “Come on, haven’t got all day, have we?”

Stefan did what he was told. Colin drove across town to Tuckersoft, left Stefan in the car, and came back out empty-handed. “All done,” he said. “Congrats. _Bandersnatch_ is all ready to be sent out to the marketplace and make kids all ‘round the country wet themselves on Christmas morning.”

He felt an odd sense of relief that the decision had been taken out of his hands. At least he couldn’t be tempted to destroy the game anymore. It was gone. It was going to be mass-produced, boxed and sold. He could take down the charts now and reveal the old music posters buried underneath. He could tuck the book away under his bed and take a break.

“Down to business now,” said Colin. “Two hours to get you out of the hole.”

“Colin, I’m not in the—”

“Yes, you are. You need a release. We all do sometimes; it’s just another part of the creative process.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” He sat back sullenly. “You’re never clear.”

“You never listen.” Colin backed out of the car park. Stefan watched him check the rear-view mirror and tap his fingers on the steering wheel. “My place or yours?”

Stefan tensed. Flickers of last night came back to him: Colin leaning over him, his hand covering Stefan’s on the joystick, his soft, curious humming in his ear when he came to a new crossroads. The way he’d whispered, “Clever boy,” his breath hot against Stefan’s sensitive neck. He’d wanted desperately, more than he ever had in his nineteen years on the planet, for Colin to lower his mouth and kiss his skin. He hadn’t known lust like that existed. He’d wanted to die right there just to end the flipping in his stomach, the urge to turn his head and devour, to…

And then Colin had finished the game with him. They’d put on a new record. They’d danced, Colin’s hands light on Stefan’s hips, smirking down at him like he couldn’t believe he, Colin Ritman, had stooped this low.

Stefan liked his haughtiness. It made him shiver. It made him wonder if Colin Ritman just saw what he wanted and took it.

He hoped so.

“My place or yours?” Colin repeated. “Your decision. It’s entirely up to you.”

“Mine,” said Stefan impulsively.

Colin inclined his head. They parked outside his house. Stefan unlocked the door. He let Colin lead him upstairs, into the still-dark room. He was glad, suddenly, that he hadn’t pulled the blinds like Colin had told him to. It felt more private, more intimate.

He watched Colin take down the _Bandersnatch_ flowchart piece by piece. When he was finished with that project, he opened the bedside drawer and smirked at what he saw there. Stefan refused to blush.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” said Colin suddenly. He looked at Stefan so sharply that he almost flinched. “It’s up to you.”

“Okay,” said Stefan, even though he knew it wasn’t really always up to him. “Okay.”

Colin played Phaedra and drummed his fingers against his own thigh. “You really want this?” he asked over the music.

For the first time, Stefan saw him look vulnerable.

“I want this.” His voice was raw. “I—yeah. I want this, Colin.”

“You didn’t last night.”

“I was in the hole.”

“And now you’re not. Allegedly.” Colin’s mouth twitched.

“Might not be,” he said stubbornly. “I let you take down the flowchart.”

Colin laughed, a loud, bright thing, and then he was cupping Stefan’s face with his hands. “You did, that’s right. Definitely _not_ in the hole, then.”

Their foreheads bumped together.

Stefan leaned up, the familiar weight of that heady lust burning low in his belly.

Colin kissed him.

 

 

The sheets were rumpled. Colin yawned, stretched, and said, softly, “Stefan.”

“Mmm?” Stefan asked, watching from a safe distance.

“Back to bed,” said Colin, patting the duvet. His eyes were still closed. “Now.”

A slow, spreading smile crossed Stefan’s face. “Don’t order me around,”  he said, but he got up from the computer chair and slipped back beneath the warm covers where he’d spent the night. “Go back to sleep.”

“Hmm. No,” said Colin, and cracked one eye open. “I don’t think that’s part of the plan.” His hands traced over the bare skin of Stefan’s chest, marking paths between every tiny freckle, every mark. “Not part of the plan at all.”

 


End file.
